They fall like rocks.
He grins at me. “Still got it.”
I smirk. “Still compensating.”
We sweep forward.
I feel every inch of the hallway like it’s alive. The lights hum overhead. My boots thud softly, rhythm synced to my racing thoughts. My finger hovers over the trigger of my repeater.
Then—there it is.
The vault door.
Cold metal.
Biometric pad.
“No alarms yet,” I whisper.
“Lazarus fried the internal system. We’ve got five minutes tops.”
Voltar steps aside, pulling a cable from his belt and jacking into the control panel.
I hold watch.
The seconds tick.
When the vault door unlocks with a low hiss, my stomach flips.
Inside: rows and rows of physical data. Thumb drives. Crystals. Hardcopy ledgers.
And then—a case.
Black. Sealed. Labeled only with a gold “O.”
I grab it.
Voltar watches my back.
We’re out thirty seconds later, silent as shadows.
Back on the ship, we don’t speak.
Not until the data’s uploaded to Lazarus.
Then, finally, I let myself sit.
The adrenaline doesn’t crash this time.
It smolders.
Voltar slides into the seat across from me, one hand on his thigh, the other bracing the bulkhead.
He stares at me.
Not like I’m fragile.
Like I’m real.
